Ace in the Hole
by Musicnutt
Summary: OC warning Not a mary/gary sue Cross w/ Arkham Assylum. He had the sensation of stepping into the dampness of a grave and it was not much better, because he had always known that the grave was there and waiting for him.
1. Chapter 1

Patient Report

Date: 12/10/00

Doctor: Dr. James Morgan

Patient # 50192

Jason D. Burkley

DOB: unknown

Ethnicity: Caucasian Male

Age: 17

Height: 5.7

Weight: 145 lbs.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Relations: deceased (according to patient)

Aliases: Jace, BJ, Dee, Ratt, Jean Baker, Daniel Beems, Jack Dwight.

Charges: First degree arson, petty theft, grand larceny, computer hacking, auto theft, terroristic threatening, biochemical terrorism, third degree assault, identity theft, fraud, kidnapping, manslaughter.

Patient has shown prodigious mental capabilities: chemistry, physics, biology, psycology, literature, history, and various trivia. Lacks compassion and empathy. Is extremely arrogant, antisocial, and unrepentant of past actions. Pathological liar. Refuses to maintain interest in one topic for long periods of time.

Has repeatedly gotten hold of pens and scribbled complex mathematical equations, different languages, and random doodles on the walls of his cell. We have not been able to discover how he manages to obtain them. It is extremely troubling.

Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder.

Notes: Lacks interest in escape or cooperation.

Must be constantly stimulated. Must not allow patient to become bored. Dangerous when provoked.

Has shown surprising insight concerning other patients. May be of advisory use. Considering making possible proposition to the director.

* * *

"Good evening, Jason."

_Clank_

"Good_ morning_, Jimmy."

"Yes, of course. How are you today?"

"..."

"Bored then?"

"_Jimmy_, I thought we were past this stage in our relationship. If you know the answer, why bother asking?"

"Yes, you dislike formalities, so I'll get straight to the point then. You've shown a remarkable ability to diagnose some of Arkham's psychotics, and I-we would like to ask for your assistance."

"..."

"It would put a gold star on your record, maybe-"

"And the _Director_...is okay with this?"

"Well...this is patient is a particularly difficult one. He's much like yourself, actually."

"You didn't _answer_ the _question_...Jimmy."

"No, he is extremely reluctant."

"As expected of him." _Clank_"Soo...who's this again?"

"..."

"_Oooh_. That bad, huh? Should I be _worried_? Pack an extra set of undies maybe-Oh wait-I don't _have_ any."

"We could get you a more comfortable domicile, perhaps a better view?"

"Not interested. I like my four white palettes, a window would just get in the way."

"Better food then? How about a few hours of recess?"

_Clank_

"Do you think this is elementary school?" _Clank_

"Now, Jason. Calm down!"

_Clank Clank Clank-..._

"...Jason?"

"I know what I want."

_Clank_

_

* * *

_Yeah, it's not so great yet. Just throw me a bone.

Review please.


	2. Chapter 2

Earlier that day...

* * *

_"Are you insane Dr. Morgan?!"_

_He flinched at the harsh, but not unexpected, retort. Having dealt with some of the worst cases of Gotham, Dr. Morgan did not consider himself an easily intimidated man, nor one who would bend to the will of the portly and rather pompous Warden Sharp; however, even he was unsure of this proposition and felt a bit small for suggesting it._

_It didn't mean he enjoyed having his mental state compared to that of his patients though._

_"Having even one of them alone with one of our doctors is dangerous enough, but to have both of them-together?!" Sharp was going red in the face, his bald patch shining. _

_"The Joker's already managed to turn one of our best against us, if you haven't forgotten! I can't even bear to think about what he could do with Burkley. The boy is already enough of a handful on his own, but now you want him to play psychiatrist?!"_

_"But none of our own have managed to diagnose let alone treat the Joker."_

_"That's because he's not treatable, as he's proven time and time again." The Warden dismissed. Morgan would not be denied. _

_"Only with doctors, but you've said the exact same things about the patients that Burkley diagnosed."_

_Sharp stiffened. "Are you saying that an established doctor of your caliber is incapable of doing so?" _

_Morgan's face colored to match his, but forced his breathing to remain steady._

_"Inmates often see doctors as the 'enemy' and refuse to be treated by them. As doctors we don't always see things the way they do-" _

_"I should certainly hope not!" _

_"-But Burkley-"_

_"Can read the mind of a criminal because he is one! It is not rocket science! He sees the world in the same twisted, warped way they do, because he's just as sick. Burkley may be one of the better behaved, but that's because he's still a kid! He's on the downward spiral of no return!"_

_"Perhaps we can change that. Maybe seeing what he could end up being in a few years could shock him. Maybe we can get him to help people-"_

_Sharp slammed his fist onto the bleached wood of his desk._

"_Or that bastard could inspire him to greater heights of crime!!"_

_Warden Sharp huffed like a wounded elephant and slumped back in his executive chair. Dr. Morgan was silent as he tried to figure out a way to sway him. _

"_How about this then: We just have Burkley sit and watch one of the Joker's sessions from the one-way window and have him diagnose the Joker. That's it. No contact."_

_The Warden did not reply. Morgan persisted._

"_If this doesn't work, then we can give them both up as lost causes. After all if none of us can diagnose the Joker there is no way we can cure him. And if Burkley remains unmoved then...he's no better." Morgan ended feebly._

_Sharp remained silent for a long time, his face wrinkled sourly. Finally he sighed, folding his hands in front of him, regarding the doctor sullenly._

"_Has Burkley agreed to this?" Dr. Morgan perked in excitement. He had won._

...

"I said I'm not doing it."

Dr. Morgan was about to tear his graying hair out. The young man before him slouched in his chair just as sullenly as Sharp.

"But why?!" Morgan cried out, forgetting the most important rule of Arkham: never lose your composure in front of the patients.

_Clank_

Jason lurched forward, his inky locks flapping messily over his wild mud puddle eyes.

" I. Don't. Do. Shit. For. Free." the kid hissed venomously.

"You know I can't do that!" Morgan snapped. Jason bared his teeth in a terrible parody of a smile.

"Then we're stuck, Jimmy." The boy leaned back again. "All of your blustering in front of Mr. Sharpie-pen goes to waste." Jason clucked his tongue, like a disappointed parent.

"All because you can't do this little thing for me."

What little remained of Morgan's patience broke.

"It's not some little _favor_, Jason! I could lose my job for even suggesting it!"

"And I could lose my life, Jimmy." Jason quipped. Dr. Morgan paused in confusion. "What?"

The boy sighed impatiently with the air of a teacher chiding a particularly dim child.

"Jimmy. You stupid little man. Do you _really_ think the Joker would leave me alone if I get involved? Do you think that he won't catch on, or find out?" Jason shook his head sadly. "I'm putting my neck on the line for you, Jimmy. Don't you think I deserve a little more than extra snacks and playtime?"

Morgan grit his teeth, not allowing Jason's pity party to touch him.

"I could _make_ you do this for me." It was an empty threat and they both knew it.

_Clank_

Jason smiled, almost affectionately, but they both knew better.

"Oh, Jim, Jimmy, Jim-bo...you can't make me do _anything_."

_Clank_

Jason leaned forward and pressed his fingertips together and regarded him like a high school principal.

"So, _Jimmy_. What are we going to do?"

_Clank_

...

The Joker stared at the heavy steel door of his maximum security cell. His _favorite_ straitjacket had been pulled extra tight today.

Something new was in the air. He could _smell_ it.

There was a change in the energy of the Arkham staff that reminded him of the day he met Harley.

He giggled madly to himself. The ominous atmosphere, the_ fear_ was exhilarating. It was like a shot of adrenaline. It brought out the predator in him.

"A new cusssss-tomer, how _smack_ ex-ci-ting."

A new doctor most likely. These quacks would never learn. Had the Joker been more humanly inclined, he might have felt a smidgeon of pity for them.

But he was going to have fun breaking this one, just as he had with every single doctor that had come through that door.

_Come into my parlor_


	3. Chapter 3

The skies of Gotham were gloomily overcast that day, the clouds laden down with their usual luggage: rain. The one thing as constant as the crime in this city. Simply another rainy day in Gotham.

Not that Jason would have known this, his cell windowless upon his own request. He gazed sullenly at the pristine white walls of his pad. The faint, pungent odor of bleach coated the room. The maintainance people had scrubbed all of his lovely script and pictures off in their weekly cleaning sessions. Considering his love of permanent ink pens, Jason was hardly one of their favorites.

Speaking of pens, they had taken particular care to find every one of his stashes. The men in pastel green had frisked him very thoroughly today. They had even given him a new, tear-proof mattress.

It was a special occasion after all.

They were going to make him see the Joker today.

Well, sort of...

Since he had dug in his heels about his "condition", Dr. Morgan had settled for making him watch recordings of the Joker's previous interviews while he tried to bargain with the Warden for Jason's request.

The videos would undoubtably make for good entertainment, but Jason had no intention of giving a diagnosis. Yet.

_Clank_

He smiled to himself. Yes. Jimmy-boy would do it sooner or later. The doctor's Achilles' heel was his pride and failure to make this opportunity would be an irrepairable wound.

All he had to do was wait. and watch.

The heavy steel door swung open.

"Hullo, Cash." he sighed, but did not bother to get up, his back turned to the door. The burly (and surly, in his opinon) guard strode over to him, his heavy boots no doubt leaving a smudge on Jason's clean floor.

"Time for your video session, Burkley" Cash announced gruffly, pulling him up from his sitting position by the arm. Jason didn't bother to fuss.

Cash steared him out into the hallway. Jason was immediately surrounded by three other guards and walked down the hall. He couldn't help but feel somewhat amused by the size of his posse.

"Sooo, what's up guys? You seem tense."

Cash scowled at him. "I don't feel right about you meeting the Joker. It's all bad business."

Jason smile with his teeth. "Oh, but I'm not, Cash-ew. Not until Sharpie-pen gives me what I want."

The others stiffened. Cash just shook his head angrily. "I can't believe they're making deals with you."

"They are just trying to fry the bigger fish." Jason batted his eyelashes sweetly. "I'm just the pretty minnow on the hook."

"Shut up, and keep moving."

/\

Dr. Morgan was having a really bad case of de ja vue.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you remove an S-class restriction from him?!" Sharp snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. Morgan fought down a flinch.

"I've never even had to use it on him. The "thing" just puts him in an uncooperative mood." He tried to reason, feeling everything he had tried to accomplish slipping away. "He doesn't really need it."

Warden Sharp's fists turned a ghastly white, the knuckles popping.

"The only reason that he doesn't attack anyone is because of that restriction. It's the only reason that he stays docile." Sharp growled through his teeth. Before Morgan could reply another voice cut in from behind him.

"I had that placed on him because I felt it was necessary, Dr. Morgan." The voice retorted in a smooth, oily manner. Dr. Morgan stiffened.

"Dr. Goff." he muttered resentfully.

"A little birdie told me that some silly little man is getting too big for his briches."

He turned to face the owner of that voice.

Dr. Goff was a tall, imposing man of fifty. His steel gray hair was slicked back in a stylish coif. His black eyes bored holes into Morgan's, and his thinlipped mouth pulled in a tight sneer. His entire person was perfectly neat and trim.

Except his nose. The appendage bent akwardly at the bridge: Jason's work. The very reason Morgan was stuck trying to get rid of Goff's judgement on Burkley.

The man held seniority over most of the doctors in Arkham and was never afraid to flaunt it. It riled Morgan in a way that he could not describe. When Goff had been pulled from Burkley's case and replaced by Morgan, he had been elated at the chance to beat the insufferable man and gain some standing over him. He had resolved to fix Jason, but so far the boy had been "fixing" him.

"Dr. Morgan," Goff drawled in a manner that reminded him of that blasted boy. "do you think that my decision to have Burkley restrained was faulty? Are you questioning _my_ judgement?"

Morgan regarded him coldly. "No, Goff. I'm just trying something new."

"Something stupid you mean." He snipped. "Burkley has proven himself to be a dangerous patient whose capabilities must not be underestimated."

"And yet," Morgan quipped, "we don't see the same restrictions on the Joker. Are you sure that this isn't just some way to soothe your ego." Morgan subtley thumbed his nose.

Goff stiffened and made to snap at him, but Sharp had had enough.

"Quiet! Both of you." They lowered their heads like scolded children. The Warden kneaded his temples.

"Morgan, Is he or is he not going to diagnose the Joker?"

The doctor paled. His change in palor did not go unnoticed.

"So, you're just wasting our time then?" Goff sneered.

"No! He said that he'll do whatever we want. All he wants is to get that thing off. Nothing else." Morgan said earnestly. "He _is_ capable of diagnosing the Joker. Under my supervision he has seen through some of our most frustrating cases." Goff was frowning at him in a strange silence. "All I'm asking is to let him _see_ the Joker, not _meet_ him, God forbid! He can watch the videos and work off of them. That's it!"

The balding man regarded him in exasperation for a long time before turning to Goff.

"What do you have to say about this?"

Goff remained silent for a moment, and Morgan felt his stomach fill with ice.

"It...is an interesting idea...a dangerous idea. Dr. Morgan's proposal admittedly has some merit, but..." Goff sent him a sly glance. "why not let them meet? Face to face?"

Morgan nearly stumbled off his chair. Sharp jolted upright in his seat.

"What?!"

"Dr. Goff!"

Goff fanned his hands placatingly. "I just don't think anyone could really _understand_ the Joker from just papers and video tapes. Meeting him, actually sitting across from him is the only way to truely get a grasp on how very sick he is. Oh, don't worry-" He said to the Warden, whose face was turning red. "We'll be watching. I, myself, am willing to intervene should anyting go awry. After all, that's what Burkley's restriction is good for." Goff smiled in his oily way and Morgan felt his heart drop out of his chest.

That _bastard_! Goff _knew_ that wouldn't work. He _knew_ it was going to fail. He was only trying to get revenge on Jason, to discredit Morgan, and to pin any positive results to his own credit.

"You realize that he won't do this for you!?" Morgan cried out in desperation, sincerly regretting this whole thing. The snake just smiled at him.

"Oh, but he'll do it for _you _then?"

"I-that-" Morgan stuttered, frantically trying and failing to gain some meager footing in the conversation. The Warden however was tired of it.

"Just be quiet, Morgan." Sharp growled. He leveled Goff with a harsh stare. "Are we or are we not doing this?"

A confident smile curled Goff's thin lips, and Morgan just wanted to die.

/

Another heavy metal door creaked open, casting a sharp rectangle of light to cut through the blackness of the room.

Jason stepped in, his wrists still shackled before him. Cash followed him in. The door slammed shut and locked behind them.

The fluorescent lights flashed on, poking him hard in both eyes and bathing him in an almost sickly palor.

The room, Jason noted, was much like his cell. The walls clinically white and windowless. The air stagnant. There were no furnishings except for a metal chair and a tv set.

He calmly strolled over and plopped himself in the seat, the cold of the metal biting through his orange jumpsuit, the only splotch of color in the room.

Cash pulled the videotape from its cardstock cover. The label read: Joker Int-#6. As the guard pushed it into the vcr Jason felt an odd feeling creep over his frame. He couldn't quite place it.

It reminded him of something he had once read in a book centuries ago...about a man named Winston.

_...He had the sensation of stepping into the dampness of a grave..._

Death. That was what watching this video was.

"Are you ready?" Cash growled at him, the remote control in his hand.

Imminent death.

Jason cast him a lopsided smile that almost seemed innocent.

"Yeah."

Perhaps it was just his own insanity that kept him from giving a damn.

The tv clicked on.


	4. Chapter 4

I finally graduated! Yay! Now I have time to continue my stories, so please read and review. (It makes every writer's day)

* * *

The Joker, Jason surmised, would have made an exceptional psychiatrist.

The delinquent sat in his "Thinker" pose as the TV screen flickered, casting odd shadows over his pale face; his blank features belying the hurricane in his mind.

"_-did you al-ways have a fetish fo-or little boys, Doc?_"

"_Th-that's—"_

It had been about two hours since his movie night started, and so far he had watched the master criminal taunt, break, and maim every doctor that dared set foot into the interview room. Cash twitched as another video portrayed the Joker repeatedly slamming a female doctor's head onto the steel table, blood splattering the pure whiteness of the room in a manner worthy of a Jackson Pollock.

While the guard's eyes were fixed upon the violence, Jason's eyes were on the assailant's face. His eyes. The manic fury and glee that burned in those twin chasms were chilling in an almost mesmerizing manner.

He could almost hear the thoughts in the madman's head.

_Crack, crack, crack! Let's see those brains that you're so proud of. That PHD worthy grey matter all mulched up on the floor. Let's see it! I'll crack you open like a coconut! Crack, crack, cra-_

Jason actually felt a little disappointed when the guards pulled him off, leaving the doctors to drag her prone form off to intensive care. He decided that it was beginning to get a little boring, as he stretched out as far as his restraints would allow, obscenely popping the bones in his shoulders and back. It was all pretty much the same thing: The Joker would poke and prod and jab, until he found a niche in your psyche (unless it was already obvious). Then, he would dig in with his nails and rip, with all the decorum of a butcher.

However, the most interesting thing, he mused as Cash popped in the next tape, was how the Joker did it. Jason prided himself on his ability to read people, being able to observe every single quirk in character and deduce the reason and reasoning behind it. It took a little time to grasp all of the details when meeting new prey, but the Joker didn't seem to need any time at all.

In fact, they didn't even need to speak to him. Jason watched as another witless doctor strode into the room. The Harlequin's black hole eyes lit with a devilish gleam the moment they fixed upon his person. He knew everything, the moment he laid eyes on you.

It was something feral, primal. An instinctive awareness of shifts in energy. It was how dogs sensed insecurity, fear, and unbalance; how seasoned interrogators and fake psychics picked up on unconscious body language. The Joker sniffed it out, latched on, and tore you open. No secrets could leave that interview room.

You had to be prepared to bare all and not care about it. You could not have any problems that you hadn't already admitted to yourself. No insecurities. No doubts. Nothing.

You didn't have to be a saint or a clean slate; you just had to have accepted what you were and what you were not. You had to be aware. You had to know everything about yourself. You had to know just how truly twisted you were on the inside (and how twisted you were capable of being); and you had to accept that. If you weren't already comfortable with who and what you are, then the Joker would just rip you to shreds, laughing all the way through.

This was one of the main problems concerning the clown menace: there were no doctors in Arkham who met the requirements stated above. In fact, few humans on earth could face the Joker and return with their mental stability intact. Not even he, as Jason was well acquainted with his shortcomings and defects, would be able to survive for long. Only someone on the same level of madness could possibly handle the clown. And it was not even probable that Sharpie would allow another freak of that caliber within ten-miles of Joker.

Jason had already completed his diagnosis from the first tape. It was not a scientific one though, and would not impress the dimwits upstairs. However, it was probably the most accurate diagnosis that he could give without falling back onto the psycho-dribble that those doctors on the telly were spouting.

If there was one thing that the Joker had right, it was that you couldn't put people into nice, little, organized boxes and not expect any anomalies.

Humans were complexly simple. He would leave it at that.

"_You cling so-o uh…desperately to the or-der of society. To your ruu-les…that you can't even…function without them. You fall apa-rt. But deep deep down, you. Crave. Chaos. I'm just, uh step a-head of the crowd. You're…the one who's in-saane."_

If only the doctors would look outside of science once in a while, they would find the answer right there in front of them. The Joker had been throwing his problem right in their faces, but only Jason had figured it out.

Cash ejected the tape. "Time's up."

Jason gazed blankly at the black and white zigzags racing up and down the screen, the buzzing filling his ears. Yes, he had his diagnosis and the treatment options, but unless Sharpie-pen was hit with a lightning bolt of sense, they weren't going to happen.

In other words: this was a complete waste of time.

It didn't bother Jason though. After all, he had been privy to some quality television, but…

_Clank_

He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

_How boring._

/

"Dr. Morgan?"

The weary man turned to answer the petite woman hurrying up to him.

"Yes, Valerie. What is it now?" _How could this day possibly get any worse?_

"It's Berkley." His features stilled.

"What has he done now?"

Valerie sighed in exasperation. "He's writing again."

"_Blast it_! How does he keep doing this!" Morgan snapped, his nerves in a fray. "What was that idiot, Cash, doing? He'll ruin_ everything_!"

The younger doctor seemed taken back by his outrage. "Doctor?"

"Is something the matter, Morgan?" came the most unwelcome drawl. "You seem upset."

Morgan clenched his teeth in frustration as he stiffly jerked his head to look at Goff.

"No. Everything is fine. I'm just going to see a patient right now."

"Then I shall come with you. It will be safer that way." Goff said, smiling in what he probably thought was a fatherly manner. Morgan's knuckles whitened.

"Fine. Valerie. I'll see to him. Run along." He growled tersely. She nodded uncomfortably and hurried away, grateful for her escape. The two men stood in silence, the tension thick in the air like a humid day in summer.

"Shall we." It wasn't a question.

"Lead the way."

/

"Why all the uh, special tre-atment, Sharpie? It's not…_like_ you."

The portly warden just fixed him with an intimidating glare (not that it worked) as he watched the guards steer the Joker into the hallway. They had fixed him in a tight straightjacket and summoned nearly a platoon of armed guards as escorts.

"Be quiet. You're going to an experimental interview."

The clown straightened up, leering at Sharp, his makeup less face somehow more haunting than usual.

"Oh? Is that so-o?"

The scars on his cheeks pulled taut widening his macabre grin.

"Sounds like fu-un, Sharpie."

The fluorescent light above them flickered.

/

_We've got to have rules and obey them. After all we're not savages._

He wrote in precise, straight print. The words flowed from his mind like the water from the moss-covered fountain that he knew stood proudly in front of the asylum's main office.

Jason had covered the left wall in the first chapter and a half of another book he remembered reading once, although he could not remember the title. It hadn't been important at the time. The Joker's words had stirred up the memory of the book. The book about civilization vs. savagery, order vs. chaos, reason vs. impulse, law vs. anarchy, or the broader heading of good vs. evil. _The end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart._

It had simply come to him and had channeled through his fingers through the ball-point pen he had filched from a passing doctor and onto his walls. With a few more hours he could probably finish the whole book and give the janitor another reason to slip bleach into his water.

He paused in his writing to admire his work. The black ink contrasted nicely against the boring starch white.

If only he had some red.

The steel door behind him swung open for the second time that day to reveal Dr. Goff and Dr. Morgan.

Jason stilled as the two strode in.

"Good evening, Burkely." Goff drawled coldly. He turned his head just enough to study him with one dark eye.

"What happened to your face? It looks so much better now."

Goff smiled cruelly but said nothing which alarmed Jason. Morgan snatched the pen from his hand and threw it outside. He stared down at his charge, his lips pulled taut.

"You're going to an interview."

_After all we aren't savages really_

Jason had no time to reply as he was grasped by two armed guards and pulled out of his cell again.

_Clank_


	5. Chapter 5

Thunder rumbled ominously from the heavy black clouds that loomed over the asylum as Jason was dragged down the halls. The guards flanking him had his upper arms in a tight grip, wrinkling his orange jumpsuit and no doubt leaving finger-shaped bruises on his paper white skin.

Dr. Morgan was giving him a debriefing of his interview with the Joker, telling him what was expected and his restrictions and- yadda yadda, whatever.

Jason scowled silently, not bothering to listen to the man. Dr. Goff glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and smirked arrogantly.

_So you think you've won?_

They now stood outside of the interview room. Warden Sharp had already arrived with the Joker and had remained behind to watch the proceedings. The balding man's thin lips twisted into an identical scowl upon seeing him. Jason's ire only burned hotter.

Goff smiled in his oily way. "Is everything ready, Warden?"

"Yes." He handed over a remote control that Jason recognized at once.

So that was how they were going to play.

The sneering doctor took it, flashing a triumphant smile at Morgan, ignoring the building intensity in the inmate's eyes. Dr. Morgan set his shoulders in resignation.

"Let's just get this over with." He turned away and entered the adjacent room without a single glance at Jason, defeated. The teen felt no sympathy. _Spineless worm._

Goff smiled coldly at him and waggled the remote in a warning, mocking gesture.

"Do remember to behave, won't you?"

Jason let a hiss flow through his clenched teeth as the man passed by him. Sharp glared at him.

"Send him in. Be prepared for anything." He snapped at the guards. They nodded in unison before steering him through the door into a sea of white.

Jason's eyes reflexively filled with fluid as his pupils constricted, trying to protect themselves from the overwhelming light. He clenched his eyes for a deliberate moment, before blinking the water from under his lids.

As his vision cleared he found himself in an interview/interrogation room, just like the ones from the videos. A large two-way mirror was set into the left wall, and a scoping camera in the top right corner of the ceiling. It was almost like his cell, blindingly whitewashed so that even the smallest, hand-fashioned shiv would stand out starkly. Nothing could be hidden in here.

A stainless steel table was set in the middle of the room, flanked by two foldable chairs. One of which was occupied.

The Joker.

Face scrubbed of any trace greasepaint and cocooned in a straitjacket, the demon incarnate slouched lazily in his seat. Dark eyes locked him in their crosshairs with a paralyzing intensity, taking in his inmate attire in mind befuddlement. The Glasgow grin twitched and puckered as he smacked his lips.

"Uuh. I think you've got the ah,…wrong room, buddy. This one's ta-ken." If the Joker's hands weren't restrained in the straitjacket, he probably would be making a shooing motion. "I'm lookin' for fu-un tonight. So-"

"_**Burkely! Sit down!" **_

Jason's gaze flicked over to the two-way mirror in annoyance. The Joker raised his eyebrows.

"Ooh? So yah do belong here. Well, yah heard the man! Take a seat, uh…Bur-ke-ly." He rolled Jason's name on his tongue before making a face in a dissatisfied manner. "Burk-elly. Bur-kelly? Blegh. Got ah nickname er something?"

Jason momentarily considered if the Joker would recognize any of his aliases, before putting that thought away. Lies would do no good here. So the truth it would be.

"A whole wardrobe full. But I believe my original was Jason." He answered in his most comfortable monotone. Jason felt oddly calm as he deliberately placed himself in the chair in front of the Joker, the cold seeping through the orange cloth.

_Finding peace in the face of certain death perhaps? _His cynical side cooed.

He wondered what Morgan or Goff would think of his self-realization. Wet themselves with joy, maybe?

"Jasss-son. " a serpent's call. "I'll call you, Jace. We're going to b e the-ah, best of friends, right Jace?"

"I don't take you to be the 'friend' type, to be honest." Jason answered in a bored monotone. He could almost hear the men behind the mirror shifting in anticipation. The Joker's scars stretched obscenely in amusement.

"Something we, ah, have. In. Common." He smacked his lips. "Bit of, uh, a loner, ain'tcha? _Jace_." Jason's left brow twitched in annoyance. The nickname grated him. "People…_bore_ you, don't they."

"No."

"Oh?"

"Just the world in general."

The clown leaned back in his seat to assess the young man.

"Ah. I seeee. Is that what you're, uh, in for? Making the woooorld, more interesting?"

"Just entertaining myself." Jason shook his head dismissively. "I don't have anything to prove." _Like you._

Though the words were unsaid, the madman heard them as clearly as Jason did. He sucked his cheeks in, and let them go with a loud smack.

"Oooo, I gettcha now." The Joker purred, his black pits swirling darkly. "So _that's_ what you're here furrr. Playing Doctor, are we?"

Jason wasn't perturbed. There was no point in trying to hide his intentions.

"Only cause _they_ can't."

The Joker burst into a fit of laughter, his high-pitched cackles ricocheting off the blinding white walls as he threw his head back, each of his yellow teeth bared.

It was annoyingly loud.

"Patient to patient, eh? Gonna tell me what's…wrong with meeeeheeheehee~!" The Joker huffed through his giggles. Jason shrugged, knowing that Morgan was probably twisting in his seat.

"Physician heal thyself." He replied, wishing that he could bring his arms up to rest on the table.

This only amused the man further. "Exxx-_actly_!" He hooted. The clown probably would have been wagging his finger in Jason's face if it hadn't been for the straitjacket.

"Soo, gonna…_diagnose_ my _condition_, _Doc_-tor?" He cooed at Jason from across the table, his stale breath making him want to gag. God, couldn't the guy brush his teeth once in a blue moon?

His face scrunched in disgust, Jason leaned back in a perfect copy of the Joker's posture and crossed his shackled ankles.

"I don't think you have a condition." At the man's raised eyebrow, he reiterated. "At least not one medicine can cure."

The harlequin scoffed and made a show of rolling his eyes. "So, I'm in-saaane~" but Jason cut him off.

"I don't think you're insane. In fact, you're almost frighteningly sane. But you do have a complex."

"Not something, I haven't, ah, heard befo-re." His companion sing-songed. It was the prelude to another episode. Maybe Jason would make the next interview tape.

"You. Are a Romantic."

The room went deathly still.

"Hah?" The Joker looked too bewildered to attack him. Yet.

"**Get him out of there. Now."**

The Joker's lips stretched in a lopsided leer.

"I think, you're the one, who has the, ah, con-di-tion. Jace."

"Sucks to your assmar." Jason muttered as he stared up at the blinding lights, waiting for the guards to yank him from the room like a landed fish.

"Sucks to your auntie."

Jason stiffened in shock, and slowly brought his head up to stare at the man. The Joker gazed back stoically.

"So does the Beastie live on the mountain?" The madman asked as the steel door behind Jason flew open.

"No." Cash's meaty hand gripped his shoulder painfully and lifted him to his feet.

And as Jason was dragged from the room, his eyes never left the Joker's.

"No. The Beast is just a man."

The door slammed shut.

* * *

Kudos to anyone who has been getting the references so far.


End file.
